


you were there and so was I

by colourexplosion



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, birthday fic, drunk married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourexplosion/pseuds/colourexplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>non-au. liam and niall have a joint birthday party in vegas. they also get married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you were there and so was I

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIAM. 
> 
> this story is un-beta'd and has been sitting in my google drive for months. I might do a continuation, if I get inspired.
> 
> to my knowledge, none of this is true. please don't share with anyone connected to the boys. thanks. enjoy!!

Liam wakes with a pounding head and obscenely dry mouth, the soft sheets in his hotel room twisted around his legs and the sun warming his bare back. He presses his face back into the pillow and groans. 

“Wassat?” 

Liam’s eyes pop open and he lifts his head-- slowly, as to not vomit, obviously-- blinking at the blond head on the pillow next to him. Niall. He must’ve followed him back to the room last night and gotten into bed with him. Christ, Liam’s always been an embarrassing drunk. Niall handles it better than most. 

“Payno?” Niall’s voice is scratchy with sleep and deep, deeper than Liam expects, really, so it startles him. At least, he’s pretty sure that’s what that feeling is in his belly. Surprise. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Liam says, his own voice sounding just as rough, if not rougher. “Did I follow you in here last night?” He meets Niall’s gaze, considering and bright, bright blue in the morning light. Louis’ got nice eyes, but they’re nothing on Niall’s, in Liam’s opinion. Not that anyone ever listens to him. 

“Nah, reckon I invited you back,” Niall says carefully, and Liam blinks. What? Niall’s eyes narrow at him a bit, like he’s trying to suss something out. 

Liam frowns, confused. “What?”

Niall shifts on the bed, sitting up, and the light catches on something in Liam’s periphery. It’s a ring, a simple gold band around Niall’s left ring finger, and everything that happened last night hits Liam like a giant terrifying wave, knocking the breath out of his chest. 

“ _Fuck._ ” 

\---

This is honestly the best birthday party Liam’s ever been to. See, he can say that because it’s not just his birthday, so it doesn’t make him one of those gross cocky blokes who thinks they throw the best parties. No. See, it’s his _and_ Niall’s party, so really it’s like he’s at Niall’s party and it’s great. Awesome. Absolutely aces. 

It’s also the best birthday party he’s ever had, but the standard for that isn’t high, what with the one where literally no one but he and his parents were there, so. Right. Also, the drinks at this party are really good. Really, really good. He’s maybe had a few too many, but he doesn’t really care, because they’re in Vegas and this party was planned so far in advance that there’s enough security to keep a really good eye on all of them. There are a lot of people here. Liam’s not sure he knows most of them. Niall must know them. Niall knows a lot of people.

“Niall knows everyone,” Liam says to no one in particular and isn’t surprised when someone claps him on the shoulder. 

“‘Course he does! That Irish charm, innit?” 

“Yeah,” Liam sighs, and then, “I love him.” 

He feels wet on the side of his face. Is he crying? No, no, the person next to him’s just spit their drink out. Gross. He brings a hand up, wiping at his cheek. 

“You’re disgusting,” he tells them, turning to actually look at them, and oh, it’s Louis. That shouldn’t be surprising, but it is. He thought Louis was busy grinding on Harry and pretending not to be in love with him. Whatever. 

“Did you just say you love Niall?” 

Liam frowns. Or maybe he was already and never stopped. “I did, yeah. Don’t you?” Louis loves everyone, even if he doesn’t show it like other people. It took Liam a long time to learn that. 

“Well, yeah,” Louis says, shrugging, “But I don’t usually sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl before I say it.” 

“M’not a schoolgirl, I’m not even wearing a skirt,” Liam protests, but Louis just looks at him like he’s even madder than initially thought. 

“Let’s do some shots,” Louis says slowly, and Liam nods. Shots are good.

Everything after the burn of tequila in the back of his throat is a bit of a blur, but there are things he remembers with startling clarity. Two rings, both plain gold and shiny, sitting in the palm of his hand. Camera flashes, lots and lots of camera flashes, but no rude journos shouting vulgar things at them. The stench of flowers, the slick feel of the stems against his skin, the bite of thorns into his palms. Harry crying and Zayn laughing. The feel of Niall’s shoulders under his arm. 

The slick, wet heat of Niall’s mouth; the sharp sting of his teeth and the unexpected softness of his lips and tongue. 

Liam remembers pinning him to the door of their suite and kissing him until he couldn’t breathe. Remembers working his hands up under his shirt to feel his skin, remembers mapping out constellations of freckles with his tongue, remembers getting lost in a warm haze of want and joy. 

Fuck. 

\---

“Payno?” Niall’s touch to his shoulder is gentle and maybe just a bit hesitant, which turns Liam’s stomach. Niall’s never been hesitant with him. Not even in the beginning. Respectful of his boundaries, sure, but never _hesitant_. 

“Oh my god,” Liam says in a rush, moving too quickly for his sluggish body to comprehend. He twists out of the sheets and lands on the floor with a hard thud, a dull pain shooting up his hip. 

“Li,” Niall says, and now he sounds scared. Like, proper terrified, and yeah, okay, maybe Liam’s freaking out a bit, but he doesn’t want Niall to like, be afraid of him. Oh god, what if he’s an abusive husband? Oh god, he’s Niall’s husband. 

“I’m gonna--” He waves a hand at the bathroom. “Just a moment.” 

He doesn’t look at Niall before he rushes into the loo, shutting the door behind himself and locking it. 

\---

“Liam.” Louis’ voice is faint, gentle through the door. Niall must’ve been really freaked out by Liam’s panic attack if he called Lou. It doesn’t help that Liam has no idea how long he’s been in here. “Li, open the door, there’s a good lad.” 

Liam doesn’t really want to talk to anyone, especially not Louis’, who’ll probably take the piss out of him forever. Liam got _married_. To _Niall._ Not that Niall’s not a perfectly acceptable candidate for a husband, it’s just-- Liam never really thought he’d get married to like, a guy. Sure, he likes them, even prefers them to girls sometimes, but he just-- He’s supposed to get married to a girl, right? Not a guy. 

_Seems a bit late for that, mate,_ a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Louis says. That’s stupid. Louis’ outside the door. He can’t be inside Liam’s head as well. That doesn’t seem fair. 

But, right, Niall’s not bad. He’s fun and warm and always cheers Liam up or brings him back down when he’s too worried about things or anxious or feeling out of control. He’s like-- He’s Liam’s rock, basically. Maybe it does make sense that they’re drunk married in Vegas for their birthday. 

His mum’s going to throw a fit. An absolute fit. 

“Liam, if you don’t open the door, I’m calling Paul.” 

Shit. 

Liam reaches up from his position on the tile floor and unlocks it, scooting a bit so Louis can squeeze in and slide onto the floor next to him. He doesn’t say anything at first, just slings an arm around his waist and pulls him close, letting Liam rest his head on his shoulder. For all Louis can be an insufferable little shit, times like this more than make up for it. 

“So,” Louis finally says, squeezing his arm a bit tighter, as if Liam will try to run. “You’re married.” 

“Yeah,” Liam croaks out. “I’m married.” 

“Is it like--” Louis pauses, and Liam guesses he’s chewing on his bottom lip. It’s a habit he must’ve picked up from Harry or Zayn. Probably both of them. “Is that what you want?” 

Liam lets out a watery laugh. “I don’t know. I mean, I just--” He takes a deep breath. Honestly, the idea of being married to Niall isn’t the worst thing in the world, and Liam’s determined enough to try to make anything work, but that hasn’t panned out well for him in the past. He should probably learn to let things go. He can’t imagine losing Niall like he’s lost Danielle and Sophia. 

“I don’t think Niall’s to excited about it,” is what he settles on saying, wincing when Louis’ answer consists of a sharp slap to his head. 

“You’re a complete tit,” he says and Liam frowns. “Niall was over the fucking moon last night.” 

“He was also drunk,” Liam points out. They’d all been so, so drunk. Christ. “We all were.” 

Louis cups Liam’s face in his hands, his grip surprisingly strong, and forces Liam to meet his gaze. “Don’t be an idiot about this, Liam.” 

Liam blinks, but the pressure on his face is gone and he’s looking at Louis’ legs. He blinks again. 

“Come on,” he says, offering a hand, “Let’s take care of that hangover.” 

Liam nods, takes the hand and lets Louis haul him up and out of the bathroom. 

\---

Liam walks into Louis’ room to find Harry lounging on the bed horizontally, his head hanging off one end and his legs off the other. He’s looking at his phone upside down, his face steadily turning red. He’s a ridiculous person. Liam’s very thankful to know him.

“Think you’re supposed to use the bed the other way, Hazza,” he says, and Harry’s gaze flicks from his phone to Liam. He raises his eyebrows and rolls over onto his stomach, laying his phone down next to him. 

“Wow mate, you look like shit.” 

Liam doesn’t even have the energy to argue. “Whirlwind romances tend to do that,” he says, but Harry doesn’t laugh, just makes a thoughtful sort of face. 

“It wasn’t really a whirlwind though, was it?” 

Liam sighs, too tired for Harry’s philosophical hipster shit. “What?” 

“You and Niall,” Harry says slowly, but not his usual slowness. His slowness he uses when he thinks he’s being kind and patient with Liam but is actually just being really condescending. 

“I’m not so thick that I don’t know when you’re talking down to me,” Liam snaps, irritated. Where the fuck has Louis gone? He was supposed to be following. Harry’s frowning at him, looking a bit taken aback, but Liam ignores the rush of guilt he feels about it. 

“Okay,” Harry says, sitting up. “I wasn’t trying to say you were. Sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m sorry, I’m just--” Liam sighs, rubs a hand over his face and tries very hard to breathe through the sudden tightness in his chest. His breath hitches, and in the next moment he feels Harry’s arms wrap around his shoulders. 

“You’re okay, Li,” Harry murmurs, and Liam wants to burrow into him and never leave. “You’re alright, you know?” 

“What if it fucks up the band,” Liam says, weak and pathetic, his voice breaking in the middle. Harry squeezes him tighter, runs a large hand down his spine. 

“What if what fucks up the band?” 

“This-- thing with Niall.” 

“You mean the drunk Vegas wedding? Or you being in love with him?” 

Liam pulls back at that-- not far, because Harry’s grip is strong-- and looks up at him. “I’m not in love with him.” 

Harry doesn’t even blink. “Yeah, and the Pope isn’t Catholic.” Liam inhales a sharp breath, reeling a bit, because, well, all right, he loves Niall, but everyone loves Niall. Niall’s great. He’s the life of a party, he can make friends with anyone, he’s down to earth but still absolutely mad when he wants to be. He’s everything. He’s Liam’s rock. But Liam’s not in love with him. Didn’t he just go over this with Louis? 

_Yeah, and then you fucking married him,_ the inner-Louis says, and oh. 

“Oh,” Liam breathes, sagging a bit, thankful that Harry’s there to catch him. He maneuvers them to the bed, letting Liam lean against him. Harry’s such a good friend. “I’m in love with Niall.” 

“It only took getting married for you to realize it!” Harry laughs like he can’t help himself. Liam can’t blame him; if it were anyone else, he’d probably take the piss as well. 

Liam groans, burying his face in his hands. “What am I gonna do?” 

“About what?” Harry runs his hand down Liam’s spine again, humming like he’s already forgotten what they’re talking about. 

“About how I’m in love with Niall!” 

“Oh, that,” Liam feels Harry’s shoulders move next to him. A shrug, probably. “Dunno. Tell him, maybe? Marriage isn’t a one way street, y’know. He signed the papers too.” 

Niall hadn’t seemed too shy about what went on after they got back to the hotel, either, but Liam’s also never known Niall to turn down sex. Not that he’s a slag or anything, but, just, always up for it, seems like. God, Liam’s an awful person. 

“I dunno, Haz,” Liam says miserably into Harry’s shoulder. “What if I’m wrong? It’d be like-- it’d be worse, I think. Than Dani and Sophia. It’d be worse if he didn’t love me too.” 

Harry runs his hand through Liam’s hair, pulling him up to look him very seriously in the eye. “That’s your answer then, isn’t it?” 

Yeah. It probably is. 

\---

The meeting with management’s absolute shit, but Liam expected that. He and Niall get berated for an hour and half about their image and the expectations of fans and other members of the music industry and, God, _family values_ , which is a phrase Liam has come to hate. Especially now that he knows what it really means. 

He wants to point out that any time he’s been on Twitter, it’s mostly just fans congratulating him and expressing their excitement and saying they love him. Or asking whether or not it’s a joke. Sure, there’s a few knobheads, but Liam’s been at this long enough to know that you can’t please everyone. Well, more specifically, that _he_ can’t please everyone. He wants to fight when they tell him it’ll have to be taken care of immediately, and he wants to break all the windows when they tell him there will have to be interviews, and their story will be that it’s a joke, a drunken mistake. 

“Won’t that just make everyone hate us more?” he says a bit helplessly. “I mean, if we say it was a joke. Isn’t that worse than being drunk gay married in the first place?” 

The answering glare he gets from all five senior members of their management team makes him shrink in his seat. When he sneaks a glance at Niall, he finds he looks about as sick as Liam feels, and he’s taken with the urge to touch him. Card a hand through his hair or squeeze the back of his neck or something, just to let him know he’s not alone. They’ve both messed this up. No, no. Liam’s messed this up. 

He just really can’t lose Niall. 

Management leaves once they’ve decided that the first interviews will take place only after the annulment’s gone through-- neither Liam nor Niall protest that an annulment might not work, since sex was had, but Liam doesn’t care to find out whether or not non-penetrative sex counts legally or whatever, and Niall doesn’t seem too interested either, so he can just add it to a list of things he’s not talking about-- leaving Niall and Liam alone in a cold conference room in Las Vegas, looking anywhere but at each other. 

Liam may be ill again. He clears his throat.

“Is really what you want?” Liam’s not sure why he asks, but he’s staring hard at the table as he does. 

“Isn’t it what you want?” Niall sounds… not unsure, but hesitant still, maybe, and that drives Liam up the fucking wall. He’s fucked everything up. He’s made Niall unsure of himself. It’s wrong. 

“If it gets us back to where we were, then yeah,” Liam says, a bit hollow, and Niall makes a noise. Liam looks at him. He can read his expression. 

“Leemo, I don’t--” Niall takes a big breath and lets it out slowly, like he’s trying to prepare himself or something. Drop a bomb, maybe. “I don’t know if I could go...back. S’pretty changed for me.” 

“Oh,” Liam says, definitely hollow now, something heavy settling in his chest and stomach. He’s already lost Niall, then. He should have known. “I’m sorry.” 

Niall frowns. “Why?” 

“For fucking everything up,” Liam says, and is out of his seat, headed for the door, ignoring Niall’s protests. 

\---

Thankfully, they’ve got another ten days until they need to perform again, so Liam holes up in Harry’s LA house with the rest of the lads, claiming a room in the northeast corner of the house so he can wake with the sunrise. Or sit up all night and watch it from his window. The latter is what he does the first few days, after endlessly awful Skype calls to his mum and sisters. His mum really just cries the whole time and his sisters spend half the call yelling at him for not inviting them and the other half talking about how excited they are. He doesn’t tell them that it’s getting annulled because he can’t stand to break their hearts twice in a week from halfway across the world. He takes hot showers and scribbles things down in an empty moleskin notebook he found in one of the drawers, undoubtedly left there by Harry, but probably not specifically for Liam. 

At least he’s getting some good inspiration out of this whole mess. 

Zayn shows up in his room while he’s scribbling through a line he wrote earlier in the day, gnawing on the end of his pen. Louis’ much better at lyrics than he is, but he’s not so bad. Most of the time. 

“Writing, then?” Zayn’s voice is quiet, startling Liam out of his writing trance and he blinks up at him. He’s been suspiciously absent-- with Niall probably, which makes sense. They’ve grown close in the past year or so, but it still stings a bit. Zayn used to be his best friend. Is still supposed to be his best friend, but no, he’s aligned himself with Niall and left Liam alone with a notebook. It’s fine. It’s understandable. That’s also probably all Liam’s fault. 

“Guess so,” Liam says, like it’s not obvious he hasn’t got ink on his cheek and lips from the wrong end of the pen. Like he hasn’t got a notebook open in front of him with words scrawled on it. “Did you need something?” 

Zayn raises an eyebrow, holds up his hands. “Guess not, if it’s like that,” he says, taking a step back, and Liam frowns. 

“Like what?” 

“Like you don’t want me here.” 

Liam snorts. “So you’ve finally decided you want to be here?” And he knows it’s wrong to snap at Zayn, especially because Zayn’s never done anything to him except support him and love him and he’s pushing him away, and it’s petty but Zayn went to Niall first, didn’t he, so maybe Liam doesn’t actually feel all that badly about it. 

“Thought maybe you’d decided to get your head out of your arse,” Zayn says, eyes narrowing as he takes another step back, “but clearly I was wrong, yeah?” 

Liam sighs as Zayn turns his back on him. “Zayn--” 

“Fuck off, Liam,” Zayn answers, storming out, and Liam looks down at the notebook, the pen in his hand and scoops them up, chucking them against the wall. 

Just another thing he’s lost, then. 

\---

Liam wakes gasping, cold water soaking his face and duvet, Louis standing over him, the glass still overturned. 

“Wakey-wakey,” he sing-songs, and Liam glares at him. 

“Fuck off, Lou, I was sleeping.” 

“Well, I’m trying to have a relaxing vacation, but you’re acting like a fucking hermit, Zayn’s pouting and Niall and Harry haven’t been in the house in days. So wake the fuck up and take a shower. You reek.” He drops a towel on Liam’s head, followed by a fresh pair of pants and joggers and a shirt. Christ. Does Liam really need mothering? Apparently. 

He grumbles as he wanders into the bathroom, turning the water almost too hot to bear and standing under the spray until it starts to lose its heat. He emerges pink-skinned and feeling only marginally better.

Louis’ sitting in the desk chair, flipping through his notebook. 

“These are good,” he says, not taking his eyes off the pages. Liam panics a bit, his chest tightening up before calming himself down. It’s just Louis. It’s only Louis. “A bit morbid-- or, no, what’s that word Zayn’s always using? Melon-something.” 

“Melancholy,” Liam suggests, but he only knows it because Zayn’s had to explain what it means to him more than once. Louis snaps his fingers and points at Liam’s chest. 

“That’s it. Never would’ve taken you for a scholar.” Louis tosses the book onto the desk and puts his feet up on it, leaning back in the chair. Liam hopes he falls over. 

“So, what are we doing then?” Liam sits on the bed, still tired. He’s just so tired. 

Louis shrugs. “Dunno. Just thought you should get out a little.” 

“Louis, I’m fine, seriously--” 

“Don’t fucking give me that,” Louis snaps, all his thinly-veiled cheeriness gone and replaced with the sudden bursting anger that Liam knows means he’s been stewing for awhile. “You’re miserable and it’s making everyone else miserable. I won’t stand for it.” 

“I’ll just leave then, shall I?” 

“Oh fuck off, you won’t. Paul would have your head.” Louis takes his feet down from the desk, spinning in the chair to face Liam. “No, you’re going to eat something, apologize to Zayn, eat something else, and then talk to Niall when he gets back.” 

Liam feels capable of the first three, definitely. He’s starving, and he misses Zayn. Louis won’t have to know if he doesn’t talk to Niall. “Yeah, okay,” he says, shrugging. 

“Good.” Louis turns, picking the book up again. “Then we can put some music to these, yeah?” 

That makes Liam a bit nervous. He’d really only been doing it to get his feelings sorted, and he’s definitely not sure that he wants to like, show them to Julian or anything. 

“Maybe,” he says, shrugging a bit. 

Louis grins like he’s won. He probably has. 

\---

Zayn’s out in the backyard when Liam finishes his sandwich, so he goes out there, standing next to the chair Zayn’s sat himself in and takes in the view. 

“I can see why Harry bought this place,” Liam says into the silence, twisting the ring on his finger nervously. He’s not sure when he started that, actually. He’s never really worn rings, but he supposes he’s always been a bit fidgety when he’s nervous, so it makes sense he’d mess with jewelry. It’s always been his watch, before, that he fiddled with. 

Zayn snorts. “I doubt Harry even looked at this place before buying it,” he says, more fondly than anything else, Liam thinks. 

“You’re probably right,” he concedes, letting silence fall between them again. He pulls his own chair up after a moment, sinking into it and gazing out into the horizon. He’s so used to cities that it’s strange to look at a landscape, but it’s nice. Peaceful. 

“So, what, you came out here to admire the view, then?” 

Liam looks at Zayn, who’s got an eyebrow cocked at him. Liam sighs. 

“I was a twat,” he says, and Zayn doesn’t disagree. Not that Liam expected him to. “And I’m sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Zayn says, shrugging a shoulder. Liam believes him. Zayn doesn’t hold grudges. At least, not if whoever’s wronged him apologizes. “I should’ve come to you sooner, yeah? M’sorry too.” 

Liam’s mouth cracks into a smile, feeling properly happy for the first time since he woke up the day after his birthday. He reaches out, squeezing Zayn’s hand in his own.

“Y’know, I always thought it’d be Harry and Lou,” Zayn says with a bit of a laugh, eyes flicking down to the gold band on Liam’s finger. “If any of us were gonna get married in Vegas. I thought it’d be them.” 

“Pretty sure everyone did.” And honestly, Liam’s not really sure how he feels about that. Louis and Harry have always been close, and Liam’s heard some strange sounds coming from their rooms on hotel nights every now and then, but that’s mostly stopped. He’d be happy for them, he supposes, if they were in his position. He has always seen a bit of himself and Niall in them, in a roundabout way. He’s known Niall the longest, and while he’s very close to Zayn, he’s just as close to Niall. It’s just all different and muddled and spending most of the past four years shoved on a bus with four other boys hasn’t really given Liam time to sort out….anything. Hell, Harry was right. 

It took getting married to Niall for Liam to realize he was in love with him. What else has he missed? 

“Earth to Liam?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Liam shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts out. “I just-- a lot to think about.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Zayn says softly, giving Liam’s hand a squeeze. Liam’s infinitely grateful for him. For all of them. 

“I miss him,” Liam blurts. “Niall, I mean. I miss him a lot.” 

Zayn frowns. “What, you haven’t talked to him?”

“Not really,” Liam shrugs, helpless. “Not since the meeting with management.” 

Zayn narrows his eyes. “Liam. That was a week ago.” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“So? What the fuck are you doing, then?” Liam’s eyes widen at the dramatic increase in volume of Zayn’s voice.

“Um,” he says, and Zayn shakes his hand off. 

“You need to talk to him! Christ, Liam. He’s-- You’ve _married_ him. He’s-- It’s Niall, yeah? He’s not like, fucking leprechaun cheer all the time.” 

Something heavy drops into Liam’s stomach at the thought of Niall, sad and confused and alone, feeling everything Liam’s feeling. 

“I’m an idiot,” he says, and Zayn puts a hand to his shoulder. 

“Sometimes, Liam,” he says, very seriously, “You really, really are.” 

\---

Niall and Harry come back to the house later that night, laughing about something, as always. Liam doesn’t acknowledge the spike of jealousy in his chest, because it’s a dumb thing to feel. He corners Niall in the kitchen, positioning himself on the other side of the island as Niall’s digging through the fridge. 

Niall turns, finally, bottle of something clutched in his left hand. Liam’s gaze lingers on the glint of Niall’s ring for a moment, before Niall shouts and drops the bottle. It smashes on the floor, liquid seeping everywhere and glass skittering across the tile. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, Liam,” Niall says, a bit breathless, and Liam winces. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, grabbing a towel and moving around to the other side. He lays it out over most of the spill, but frowns at Niall’s socked feet and the glass surrounding them. “You’ll need to hop on the counter while I sweep.” 

“I’m fine, I’m not gonna sit on the counter,” Niall scoffs, moving to take a step, but Liam catches his arm and his gaze. It’s the first time he’s made real eye contact with him in a while, and even inside under the lights in Harry’s kitchen, his eyes are startlingly blue, saturated and clear. Niall’s gaze flicks down, to Liam’s mouth, and back up. Liam swallows, throat sticky and dry. 

“You’ll get glass in your foot,” he says quietly, letting go of Niall’s arm gently. 

Niall shrugs. “Can’t jump on the counter,” he says, looking away, like he’s ashamed, or something. “My knee.” 

“Okay,” Liam says, taking a step toward him. Glass crunches under his flip flops. He’s thankful he’s wearing them. He reaches out, his hands coming to a rest on Niall’s slim hips. “I’m gonna--” 

Niall nods. “Yeah, okay,” he says, breathless again. Liam’s hands slide down to hoist him up, pushing him back a bit so he’s sitting on the island. Of course, that means he ends up pressed to the island himself, hands still on Niall’s hips, settled between his thighs. He gets a flash of a memory-- smooth skin and a needy whine-- and lets out a sharp breath, stepping away from Niall quickly. 

Niall frowns, but it’s brief, replaced by a neutral expression in the next instant. 

“Don’t happen to know where Harry keeps the broom, do you?” Liam’s voice sounds ridiculous to his own ears, shaky and a bit weak. Niall shakes his head, and Liam gives him a small smile. He putters around the kitchen for a few minutes, finally finding the tiny cupboard that has all of Harry's cleaning supplies in it. 

Liam gets to work, picking up the towel and wringing it out in the sink before mopping up the rest of the spill and then sweeping up the glass. Niall watches the whole time, catching the sleeve of Liam’s shirt after he’s done washing his hands and tugging him closer. His fingertips trace Liam’s cheekbone, making him shiver slightly, goosepimples erupting over his arms. 

“Why’d you really come in here, Payno?” It’s a simple enough question, and he’s sure Niall deserves the answer. It’s just that Liam’s preoccupied with the thought of crowding in against Niall and kissing him senseless. He’s not sure how Niall would respond, though. 

“To talk to you,” he answers finally, hands coming to rest on either side of Niall’s hips. Niall’s hand leaves his face, thank God, and comes to rest on his own knee. Liam resists the urge to link their fingers.

“We’re good,” Niall says, brow furrowed in some sort of expression that doesn’t exactly put Liam at ease. “You and me, Li. We’re always good.” 

Liam lets out a breath of relief, sagging forward a bit. Niall meets him halfway, their foreheads touching, and Liam has to stare at the surface of the island between Niall’s thighs to keep from tilting his head up to kiss him. 

“I was worried,” he says, voice low but loud enough in the kitchen. “Because you said you couldn’t go back to being friends, but I can’t--” Liam takes a deep breath to steady himself. He feels off centre; too many of his thoughts rushing about in his head, tangled with the sheer panic. This could be it. This could be the his last chance. 

“Liam, hey, Li, calm down,” Niall says, running a soothing hand down Liam’s cheek. “I’m sorry I said that, alright?” 

“No, but you’re right,” Liam says, shaking his head. “It’s different now. We’re married.” 

Niall snorts. “Trust you to take it seriously,” he says fondly, making Liam frown. 

“Of course I take it seriously, Niall, it’s _marriage_.” He thinks maybe he’s pouting a bit, but Niall’s still stroking his cheek and looking at him fondly, and it’s making something warm expand in Liam’s chest. 

“Yeah, but it’s just me,” Niall says. “I’ve always been here, Li. I always will be. Whether or not we’re married.” 

“So you’re saying it doesn’t matter,” Liam says with a frown. “It’s meaningless?” 

“No, Christ,” Niall says, sighing and rolling his eyes. “I’m saying the marriage part doesn’t matter. The ring. I still love you without it. You’re still bloody important to me. I wrote you a song, for Christ’s sake.” 

“You wrote that for all of us,” Liam insists, thinking _I would write an album’s worth of songs for you if I could_. 

“Yeah, but also for you,” Niall says, poking Liam in the chest. Liam catches his hand and links their fingers. Niall leans in, resting his forehead against Liam’s. “I really love you.” 

Liam looks down at their hands, his thumb catching on the gold band around Niall’s ring finger. Liam hasn’t taken his off either, if only because he’s grown used to the feel of it. It’d be odd to take it off now and have to live with the phantom weight. 

“I love you too,” Liam says, looking up and cupping Niall’s jaw with his free hand. Niall smiles at that, bright and happy and-- and whatever the complete opposite of hesitant is. Open, maybe. Shining like the sun on a hot summer’s day. Liam wants to stay here forever, nestled between Niall’s legs and in his space, soaking up everything he radiates. He wants to keep him this happy, all the time. 

“I think we should stay married,” Liam says, and Niall’s brow furrows, but his expression doesn’t dim. 

“Yeah?” he asks, cautious, bringing a hand up to wrap around Liam’s wrist. “You sure?” 

“Absolutely sure,” Liam breathes, and leans forward to kiss him. 

Niall meets him halfway.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! [come say hi!](http://jessimond.tumblr.com)


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